


army of angels

by helo572



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 19:02:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13196553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helo572/pseuds/helo572
Summary: It was not protocol for said building to be blown sky high as the battlefield evens out, while all Reinhardt can hear is his heart beat in his ears. Angela was in there.





	army of angels

**Author's Note:**

> hello!!! i wrote this for the lovely babe mai, thank u for being ever supportive and letting me write these silly ideas out for u <3
> 
> please also check out this 110% reincy song which this fic is named after: [the script - army of angels](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HrecrfBzSAg)

The explosion is a rumbling which seems to start deep within the earth, shaking and shuddering, until it bursts free from the ground like a terrible, ear-splitting roar. It seems the very magma of the Earth itself is churning for freedom, and Reinhardt is thoroughly convinced, save only the building to his left rocks and threatens to buckle. Even the bots freeze, which is uncanny, but then the static on the air hits him suddenly, makes the airs on his arms stand on end even underneath his armor.

 

He sees the fireball first, orange and sharp against his vision, then there’s that same rolling of thunder from underneath his feet. Except this time, it explodes, a closely following shadow to the fire which bursts throughout all of the lone tower block. The sound is suddenly deafening, an unrelenting force which throws itself against his shield. The soldiers he shield yelp in surprise, but he holds his ground, eyes determined and feed steady.

 

That is, until he remembers:  _ Angela _ .

 

“I just need to clear it!” she’d thrown over her shoulder, her and two training medics disappearing into the building. In the ground they’d taken during the fighting he knew it was only protocol to check for civilians or injured troop. However, it was  _ not _ protocol for said building to be blown sky high as the battlefield evens out and all Reinhardt can hear is his heart beat in his ears.

 

Angela was in there.

 

Recruits yell as he slowly lowers his shield, eyes cast skyward, to the ash which billows out of the blown-out windows of the old tower block, and remnants of flames which lick up to the sky. The bots have fled anyway, a secret sense for the sweltering heat before it came, not ones to stay in the aftermath of carnage. That, or the air squad has swept in to relieve them, to get on the transport and go home, finally.

 

“Angela!”

 

The building fizzles, like a hiss which trails across the hair, the heat lifting off the brick as the building recovers from the shock. Reinhardt is not sure he will, eyes glued to the windows, looking for any sign of movement, of indication she was alright.

 

Then, there it is, the third floor from the top, somebody punches out the remaining glass and leans out of the gaping window. The wind billows around the hole, sucking out the charred curtains and the person’s strawberry red hair. Not Angela, but still alive, covered in soot and ash.

 

“Here! Reinhardt! Help us get her down!” The medic’s voice is shrill, raspy, but he needs to hear, needs to  _ help _ . He had let her go in there while there was active gunfire, any number of bullets could have caused that explosion, or even the low hum of energy from his shield.

 

She is injured, he realises, with something fearful twisting in his chest. Dizziness pulls at him, looking up at the bright sky for so long, worry clawing at him so suddenly.  _ Help us get her down _ . He fears - burn marks, too many to count, blonde hair charred and eaten away by hungry flames, or the unbearable weight of concrete and brick, even plaster choking her to death, ash and soot heavy in the air and in her lungs.  _ Get her down _ .

 

And there she is, cradled in the arms of the medic, head lolling against his chest. Distantly, he hears his hammer clatter to the ground at his feet, stepping closer, to be underneath the window. They are six stories up and already his head hurts.

 

“The Valkyrie -” The medic turns away to cough, the other one sets a hand on his shoulder, and it jostles Angela. He thinks, from a distance, he sees her stir. “It’ll activate, just - catch her. Reinhardt. Get her to the transport.”

 

“And you, my friends?” he has to ask, though his eyes never leave Angela, trying to assess her from such a height. She is grazed, dark splotches cover her skin and the blue suit - and that’s all he thinks on else he grind his teeth into each other.

 

“Fine! The explosion threw us off, it was - was just Dr Ziegler who caught it. Needs assessment immediately, we didn’t see what happened.” They sound guilty, almost, but anything he could say in reassure is lost on his tongue when the medic drops her - quite literally. 

 

He expects for a moment for the Suit to fail, for Angela to plunge to her death after already surviving one extreme. But the wings catch, a jostle, and she’s floating towards the ground safely cradled in the Suit. Reinhardt forces his heartbeat to calm, to settle her safely in his arms and get her to the transport. Her stillness is worrying, her silence, and his heart aches for those long few moments they stand there in limbo just waiting - until Angela finally comes to rest, gently, in his awaiting arms.

 

Reinhardt cradles her as tightly as he allows, noting the burns scratching across her exposed shoulder, the blood which trickles from her forehead, the bruises likely blossoming underneath her Suit.

 

“Angela,” he breathes, taking her in. She doesn’t move, doesn’t grace him with a sweet smile or a quipped reponse. Nothing. He can’t grace the other medics with another look, he’s already off towards the transport, her head cradled against his breastplate. “You will be just fine, Angela, I swear it.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading!!!


End file.
